


drabble me up the butt diddles

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Banter, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Collars, Come Eating, Crushes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexual!Bitters, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Elevator Sex, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Gummi Bears, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Jealousy, Kinks, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Makeouts, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW Tumblr Prompts, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Safewords, Semi-Public Sex, Shorts, Shower Sex, Slow Sex, Swearing, Threesome - M/M/M, Touching, Vibrators, Voyeurism, Wall Sex, generous amounts of lube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/post/123146018807/smut-kink-prompts-for-when-youre-in-the-mood-to">The prompts all come from this Tumblr ask meme.</a>
</p><p>A series of short-ish smut fics with many pairings that varies in length. Each chapter is labeled by pairing and each chapter has its own summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murder Sandwich (Locus/Wash/Felix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawkheartedlion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkheartedlion/gifts), [LuckyLocus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLocus/gifts), [FinalSymphony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinalSymphony/gifts).



> You can find me on Tumblr @[ShadowSheyla](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Prompt: Murder Sandwich making love in a bath or shower.  
> -Threw in some pre-established relationship and some hinted bank robberies.

That bank robbery could’ve gone better—could’ve been _smoother_. It also could’ve not had him get hit with a car, but cars hated him. It was kinda already established. When things seemed to go _decently_ for once, just send a car Washington’s way and everything would work out. The universe would realign and things would be _better again_ —at least, in everyone’s world but Wash’s.

Everything hurt; aches and bruises fanning out all over his person—from his toes to his head. That’s how they trapped him. Trapped him in the fury of kisses, caresses and massages—four hands did wonders at working out the tension, all that hurt from over used muscles. A firm chest pressed against his back, and another pressed to his in their cramped bathtub in that shitty little motel room.

Four hands trailing lower and lower—lower still, until nothing but sighs could be heard from his mouth. Caught off cries as one circled back and down to the clef of his ass; encircling his hole and pressing in, he swallowed it down sighing, lashes fluttering against his cheek as he tossed his head back. Back and over Locus’ shoulder as the man jointly worked both ass and cock—so familiar, so _natural_ as Felix pulled his face towards his.

“Such pretty faces you’ve got there, Wash,” Felix _purred_ kissing him then, pecking his lips over and over and _over again_ as Locus worked him over. “Want Locus to fuck you while you fuck me?” still more kisses, it just dragged on until Wash could only whine—whine for more.

A cock in his ass, _his_ in someone else’s—fuck, a proper kiss would do it too. Just something to relieve him of the building tension that had only returned with a vengeance. “Please, fuck, I don’t care—both. Shit, just give me everything.” He was babbling, leaning back against Locus fully and _finally_ opening his eyes to see his partners exchanging open mouth kisses right beside his head. “Assholes,” he groaned, working his tongue in there with theirs.

Kissing with three people was messy; it took a considerate placement of heads and partners who knew what the fuck they were doing to get it to work. But Washington couldn’t _care_ , he didn’t care about that—just wanted an end result now that they were paying attention to him. “Fuck me,” he hissed out, watching at Felix lean over the side of the tub and root through the supplies they brought in with them in their stash away bag (or Go bag for short).

Lube, more weapons and ammo, bandages, soap and other cleaners—always need to make sure the wound is clean.

“So impatient, Washington.” Still that same one finger working in and out of him, slowly teasing his insides as Felix fished out the lube from their Go bag. He huffed, not quite a laughter bubbling from his throat as he finally wrapped his fingers around the bottle and held out his prize in victory. Out towards Locus, palm up and snorting at the generous amount of lube that Felix piled on—and continued to do so. “Enough, Felix. Washington take some of this.”

They had to kneel, had to move from their original position to get ready—they should’ve just taken a shower, should’ve just went with the shower idea so that it left more _freedom_ for movement. No, instead Locus sucked marks into the back of Washington’ neck as he quickly readied him for penetration. “I’m good,” Wash ground his teeth together, slicked up fist clenching around the base of his cock as Locus worked the third finger into him. “I’m good, just get _in me_.”

Wash was guided back, back down into the water and onto Locus’ cock. Sinking down, Wash groaned—tossing his head back over Locus’ shoulder and whimpering, grasping hold of the man’s long rich brown hair. “Beautiful,” Locus purred in his ear, watching as Felix slowly worked himself open—teasing himself now more than anything. He nodded to the man and Felix nodded back—time to adjust again.

Sinking further into the bath, feet and shoulders firmly planted in the tub as Felix slipped his way in the mass of limbs and skin—until he straddled both Wash and Locus, sinking down on Washington’s cock. “Fuck this is a bitch,” the man hissed pulling Locus in for another kiss, a kiss left uninterrupted as Wash was left moaning between them. Their bodies rocking in a rhythm created out of familiarity.

With his hold solid on both Locus and Washington, Felix began to move with earnest, tossing his head back when Locus’ thrust upwards would send the blond deeper within him. “Next time I suggest this position in the bath hit me,” Felix ground out, rolling his hips, clenching around the prick in buried in his ass. Yes, he tossed his head back. Fuck, “Fuck,” _fuck fuck_. He groaned with Washington, pulling the blond in for a kiss, for a slide of tongue and clash of teeth.

“Don’t tell me you’re close already,” Locus’ tone made him grind him teeth, made him force his eyes open to glare and spit out curses. The man beneath them all chuckled, laughing at the response at his long-time partner in crime.

“I won’t say I love you,” Felix hissed finally, finally between the moans bubbling out of his throat and bouncing off the tiled walls—it blended in so well with Washington’s, with the sharp gasps and groans, those cuts of exclamations of passion that’ll drown out Locus’ quite grunts and moans with each thrust upwards. Each thrust rocking the pile, pushing Felix and Wash deeper into their passionate haze.

“But I will,” Wash’s breath caught, teeth grinding as he caught his shout—oh _shit_. He groaned, teeth clenched tight on his trapped lip between. Fuck, fuckfuck. He released his hold of Locus’ hair, taking hold of Felix and thrusting up into him—again and again. Once more, twice. He came with a sob, a shiver running up and down his spine.

Felix took hold of his cock, slipping Wash’s out of his ass as he beat himself off. Quick, uncaring in making it _pretty_. At this point he just wanted to cum, just wanted to get out of this water and crawl in bed with his lovers so they could move to the next motel so they could continue to lay low. He came all over Washington’s chest, laughing at the blond’s grumble of a complaint—Locus continued to work himself off, off to his release deep within Wash.

Locus pulled both heads towards him, holding them there as he came—eyes clenched tight and mouth open. “Love you,” Washington pressed kisses to both their cheeks, to their noses and brows, “I love both of you assholes but you’re still cleaning me up.”

Felix hissed; he was hoping that his orgasmic haze would’ve gotten him to _forget about that_. “Fucking hell,” he bitched. Always the _Queen_ —bathe me this, or clean your cum off me that.  


	2. Norkington (North/Wash/York)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are multiple types of "Virgins", its not always about the first time you have sex. Sure, its still the "first time" but sometimes it just a matter of perception.  
> Still didn't matter, York and Wash were taking North's ass virginity either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Norkington and taking one of the characters virginity.

They wined and dined him, swept him off his feet—time and time again. They were going to make it special, make this _mean something_. Something more than just his first time being fucked. York wanted the best for his best friend—the best for North who’s been there through his past disastrous relationship with Washington’s elder sister.

Only the best for their tallest blond; the one who’d cuddle with them after long nights and during the early mornings. Only the best for North who loved them more than words could hope to understand.

They worked the elder blond’s shirt off, Washington trailing kissing down the man’s spine—dipping lower and lower, steadily until he was on his knees pulling the man’s form fitting pants down his legs. York kept his mouth busy, knowing that if he was in Wash’s place he _wouldn’t_ take it slow—he’d fuck it up, rush through the foreplay, through the prep work.

Wash had the skilled mouth, the patience to sit there and work himself or his partner open. Today was all about North—about York _fucking_ North. Wash was more than happy to take his fill now, to kiss and bite marks into the pale white flesh. North hissed as his briefs slid down his legs, pooling around his feet as his partners jointly trailed their hands over different parts of his body.

York working at the tension in his shoulders, their chests pressed together. “You doing alright there?” he smiled up at his lover, knuckles smoothing over North’s cheek before pulling him back down for another kiss. He loved kissing that man, loved how he could flip from soft and caring to firm and demanding. Loved how North could take hold of his hair and pull him every way he needed him to mould to.

Wash ignored the two standing—standing, kissing, talking and kissing again. He wouldn’t be jealous, wouldn’t look away from pleasing North and making this a night worthy to repeat again. He pulled the pale white cheeks apart and plunged his tongue in—no use teasing, no use drawing out the event as York swallowed down every single one of his cries.

“Wash,” North moaned out, pulling away from York’s kisses and reaching down to cover the smallest man’s hand with one of his own.

York trailed kisses, nips and pulls of teeth up and down his throat—working light marks onto the flesh. “He’s _heavenly_ with that tongue, eh? And here you laughed and didn’t _believe me_ when I said he gives great head,” the brunet teased peaking around the center of their affections. “You doing alright down there?” he teased, chuckling when Wash glared up at him.

He pulled away, swatting at North’s ass as he sat back. Reaching for the lube that he left near his foot, Wash popped the cap off and squeezed a generous amount in hand—he watched as York started to strip, pulling that horribly ugly olive green tank top over head then shimmying out of his khakis. He looked like the army prick that he was; all black combat boots, green shirt and beige khakis. Still better than going out in army print cargo pants—Wash could deal with the form fitting khakis, at least with these it didn’t eat the shape of his ass.

Again Washington ignored what York was doing to North to prep the older blond. Slicking up his fingers before pulling one well rounded cheek apart and slowly pressing his middle left finger in. North keened, cursing softly much to Washington’s shock. It’s not every day that the blond let out a curse—always one to chastise his two younger partners for their vulgar vocabulary. “North,” York purred, wrapping his fingers around the blond’s neglected cock and slowly tugging at the organ, “ _language_.”

Wash chuckled, pressing kisses to the man’s lower back—thrusting that same single finger in and out of his hole. He slipped the second one in when he went to defend himself, calling York out on the fact that _he_ was chastising _him_ for saying _one simple cuss_. Wash sucked mark after mark onto the man’s lower back, curling his fingers and pressing deeper—deeper and deeper still until North buckled. Buckled against York and the brunet cooed, petting the older man.

Wash kept his attention there, watching as his two fingers were swallowed by that ass— _fuck_ , Wash bit at the man’s ass cheek, sucking a deep painful looking hickey right near his ass crack. York would have to look at it when he’d fuck him, remember just who got him ready. He pressed a third finger in and continued to massage his prostate, listening to the cries North would release between York and his open mouthed kisses, between the wet sounds of swapping spit.

Wash pulled off then, smiling when North whimpered out in protest. “He’s good to go,” Wash cleared his throat, not liking the tightness—how his voice caught on the too many _O’s_ in that sentence. He kissed his way back up North’s back, nipping at his shoulders until York pulled him just out of his reach—slowly easing him back to their bed.

York wrapped an arm around Washington’s shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. “You alright?” he press a kiss the man’s temple, to his cheek then to the tip of his nose. Wash had a look in his eyes that he didn’t like; North turned back to them, running a hand through Washington fluffy blond hair—he was in a sore need of a hair cut again.

“It’s dumb,” he tried to smile, tried to brush it off despite his two partners refusing to allow him to escape. “Just a little... left out,” he didn’t like how it sounded—didn’t want to make it _about him_ , it wasn’t about him today. It was about **North** ; all about him feelings good. He hated that he was like this, that he needed the attention—the affection. Couldn’t go and be _happy_ that his lovers were having a ball.

North pressed kisses into his hair, to his face and nose—even the corner of his lips. York doing the same; showering him with affection that he needed.

“Stap,” Wash groaned leaning away from the shower of kisses to his face. “My mouth tastes like ass, let me brush my teeth—just, give me a second and I’ll be right back.” He wormed his way out of their hold, dancing around their reaching hands and long arms with a _proper_ laugh bubbling out of his throat. Yeah, yeah he needed that. Needed that brief moment of a reminder that the loved him even with his need for affection, that they loved him even when he was a little shit.

He danced into the bathroom, pulling the cap from the mouthwash. The connecting bedroom feel silent of moans; where they waiting for him or did they just stop? “I don’t hear moaning!” he called after a minute. He could hear the men fall into bed shortly after he made his way into the bathroom, but save that he heard scarce more.

“Oh _David~!_ ” York’s cry rang out in reply followed by the slam of the headboard against the wall.

It startled him; coughing up the mouthwash he had just taken a swing of into the sink. His grimaced at the burn , twisting that cap back on and tossing it to the counter and returning to the room where—yeah, okay so they were rutting. Wash huffed, shaking his head at the display he was welcomed with. Poor, poor North’s head thrown back as York slowly eased himself in and out of him in shallow, rolling thrusts.

He made his way over to the bed and North tossed his head back, groaning low—primal. The bed squeaking under the pace, _squeak squeak_ , the headboard knocking against the wall. He was tempted to stay there, just watch as York bent the taller man in two and alternated between fucking his brains out _brutally_ and _slowly_.

Oh he wasn’t playing fair—he pouted _for_ North. Knowing just how York tended to get when he set up that little pace. He wasn’t just teasing North but himself as well—the brutal pace helped chase the need for _more_ , though the slow helped draw him back from cumming to soon.

He kept his too tight jeans on, only slipping out of his socked finally before finally taking those last few steps and joining his boyfriends on the bed. “You’re being a prick,” he laughed, shaking his head. Trailing his fingers up York’s spin and into his hair as he circled around before _finally_ , finally falling into that damn bed.

Wash kneeled, shuffling up further so he could lay beside the other blond. He pressed kisses to his check, humming when North turned to take his lips with his—licking into his mouth and hissing out when York thrust _deeper_ , pushed for more and more and _more_. “Come on, lovely,” Wash purred rubbing their noses together, “go chase that feeling.”

He could tell by how he shook, how York could hardly keep his eyes open—let alone his mouth _closed_. North moaning, back bowing up from the bed and further into Washington’s embrace—finding his neck and latching on with tongue, teeth and _suction_. “C’mon, c’mon just a bit more,” York hissed, to himself—to his dick as he rounded back to brutal. Balls slapping against the blonds ass and Wash trailed his finger, his palm, down lower and lower until he wrapped his hand around North’s leaking, weeping cock and tugged.

Wash hissed when North’s bite bit in deeper along the front of this throat, his load shooting out all over his stomach and Wash’s hand. “You can come now York,” Wash’s gray-blue eyes snapped up to the shaking brunet barely holding himself together, “I won’t chirp you about coming second.”

No, that only happened when the prick came before Wash when they were fucking—York always had that habit of coming _right_ before Wash could start riding him with earnest. _Right before_ he could start abusing his own prostate and chase that feeling, succumb to the passion.

He came with a whine, with his body buckling and collapsing onto his two blond haired partners. “Fuck you felt amazing... you also have three hickies on your ass. Hope no one’s seeing that,” he chuckled, cuddling to the two men trapped under his weight.

Wash whined, shifting in their awkward embrace. “So... who’s gonna get me off?” he inquired, both York and North turned their heads towards him. Their brows furrowing even when York pushed himself up and he _finally_ noticed the fact that their youngest lover was still half dressed.

“Why the _hell_ didn’t you take your pants off?” York exclaimed, pushing himself up on shaky arms—up and off North, slipping the condom off his slowly softening prick and tying the used rubber out of a habit. He tossed it towards the garbage, fist pumping when it _swooshed_ right in. “C’mer,” he rolled to Wash’s other side, kissing the man’s cheek as he snaked a hand down the front of the man’s pants.

His fingers wrapped around his prick, tugging on it—more palm sliding up and down the length from the awkward positioning than anything else. “Let,” Washington licked his lips, “let me help.” He unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the zipper down as much as he could before shimmying it down his hips. York adjusted his hold, tightening his hold—the slide smoother, paying special attention to the head, thumb sliding through the pre-cum gathering over the tip. “York,” he sighed, lashes fluttering turning as North brought him in for a kiss.

Tongues visible as they kissed slowly—lazy. Wash’s merely nudging against North’s as he plunged in, sliding in and out, exploring over his teeth and sucking at his bottom lip. Wash mewled, heels digging into the covers as he pushed up—up off the bed, up into York’s hand.

“Ah, fuck. _Fuck_ , fuckfuck,” he broke the kiss, slamming his head back and arched up—his shoulder’s and hips only touching the sheets. Such showmanship, such _flair_. He always made a show out of cumming, it was enough to always catch both York and North’s attention—always enough to _keep_ it on him.

He groaned, lashes fluttering open as York started to lick his fingers clean—holding the last of his cum covered digit to North who took the finger into mouth without hesitation, sucking it clean.


	3. Locington (Locus/Wash) + Washlix (Wash/Felix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locus got to Wash first; he was the one dating him after all. He's the one that got to kiss him, cuddle him--got to fuck him first. But like the asshole that he was, Locus invited Felix to watch as he does it.  
> That prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Locington with Locus taking Wash's virginity, Washlix with Felix watching.
> 
> Warnings: Possessive behavior is for this chapter. These two are the problematic characters in RvB... its only natural for them to have some problematic behaviors.

Felix got comfortable, kicking up his feet and unbuckling and unzipping his pants for a _just in case_ reasoning. It’s not every day he could watch Washington lose his virginity. It’s not every day that Locus would _let_ him make a pass at the blond—that _prick_. Who the hell was he to decide who Felix could or could not make a pass at?

The couple kissed—the dark skinned male hitching Washington’s legs up higher around his waist as they continued to devour each other. Smacks of lips against lips, the wet slick of tongues pressing and sliding together as Washington moaned, hummed— _sighed_ into the kiss.

...okay so maybe it was because Locus was the one dating Washington, not him. Who could blame him for wanting the taste of that freckled white boy ass? Freckles were _in_ —they were _hot_. Fuck Wash had a set of lungs on him.

Watching as Locus pulled his head back, those emerald green eyes snapping towards Felix—taunting him, _reminding him_ just who had Washington. Who exactly was going to fuck him, push his cock into that freckled ass of his and _breed him_. Fuck—Felix snapped his attention to how Wash’s mouth hung open, how he was starting to _drool_ as Locus ground against him.

How he arched up, hands finding purchases and using the added grip to push up—to _grind_ up against Locus. He moaned so pretty, crying out as Locus flipped him onto his hands and knees. That beautiful ass proudly displayed—Locus squeezed the globes of flesh, kneading it. Playing with it; pulling his cheeks apart then pressing them back together, again and again as Wash shivered—pleading, begging, _yearning_ for more.

“Stop teasing,” The blond’s voice puffed by the sheets, by the covers scrunched up around his face, fisted in his hands—he wanted more. Felix could see it in how he shook, how his knees quaked and his arms started to prickle with gooseflesh. “Locus please, _please babe_ ,” he whimpered, pushing back against the hands—shuttering with pleasure when Locus moaned, grinding his harden cock up the crack of his ass. “Please Locus,” his legs shook, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

Locus leaned over him, pulling Washington to face him—pulling his mouth to his, the slick of tongues sliding together, the soft little hums and _ha’s_ as they kissed. As Locus distracted him away from the sound of him popping open the cap of lube and squeezing the gel down the blond’s crack with a chuckle. He held his face in hand, smooshing his cheeks in—his fingers circling, dipping lower and lower into the slick and _finally_ , finally pressing in.

He wasn’t slow, wasn’t _teasing_ in his actions of stretching the male out. Felix could tell they’ve done this before—that Wash’s asshole had swallowed down Locus’ fingers more than once before. He’d be willing to bet that Locus had spent a whole day just fingering him, just slowly working him open until he was nothing but a sobbing _wrecked_ mess, quivering on his sheets.

Felix took in everything—every single thing he could possibly observe in this position.

How Washington’s gray-blue eyes rolled back as he pushed against the, now two fingers, penetrating him. How Washington alternated between biting at his own wrists and the sheets to silent his moans, his cries—those little whimpers of passion as he slowly, steadily lost himself to the situation.

“More,” he begged, “please— _please_.”

“Think you can take it?” Locus licked his lips, clearing his throat when the words started sticking. _Fuck_. Fucking hell. Felix took hold of himself through his boxers, clenching the base of his cock as Locus rolled the condom down his prick—how Wash’s body shook with anticipation, the pillow stuffed under his waist for when his body would give out. Because his arms and legs _will give_ —they’ll buckle and he’ll eat the mattress.

He breached slowly; gauging each hitch in Wash’s breath, each tense and un-tensing of muscles. He kissed, lapping at his back—sucking marks to his shoulder blades. Felix couldn’t catch what Locus was whispering—could see the kisses he placed to his ears, to his cheek and neck and shoulder though. Felix could hear Washington though, could hear that voice pinching upwards, and could hear it crack as he whispered back at him. “I love you too,” Felix glanced away at that, “slow. Just go slow,” he was giving the couple some semblance of privacy as Locus _finally_ started rocking into him.

Felix took that moment to settle in; pulling his boxers down this thighs, wrapping his hand around his cock and working up a pace that matched with the couple— _slap, slap_. Washington’s moans picking up, pitching and breaking off into whimpers. Felix glanced back—back to the night’s entertainment, back to Locus’ hand clenched around the back of Wash’s neck and he piston himself in and out, balls slapping.

“Ah—” his voice like music to his ears, “ _oh shit_ , Locus—ah, fuck fuck _._ ” He whimpered, wriggled on his pile of pillow. His breath catching on moans, on each thrust as he went to suck in a well needed lungful of air. “ _Please_ , pleaseplease—Ah! Shit!”

Locus groaned, tossing his head back, gut clenching and unclenging as he fought his orgasm—at that moment it was nothing more than Washington and he. Nothing more than the tightness around his dick as he thrust himself deeper—deeper and deeper still until they were spilling. Until Washington was sobbing out his release and Locus was hissing out the blond’s name—not Wash or Washington. No, no Locus was calling out _David_.

Felix fucked his hand—flicking his wrist, fondling his balls. Alternating between fingering at the slit, twisting his wrist for an added sensation with the upstroke—tugging, squeezing at his balls and teasing a finger further behind. Down the underside at the expansion between balls and hole—trailing his finger between, each time growing closer and closer, _closer and closer_ still. He came with a huff, with his cum spilling all over his fingers and dripping onto his leg.

The couple continued to kiss—wrapped up in their loving endearments, that haze of their first time. Pressing kisses to each other’s faces, Locus kissing each and every one of Washington’s fingers. Their legs tangling together as the curled up further into the bed. Whispering their _I love you’_ s and other notions of love that he couldn’t care about. Felix scoffed at it all, tucking himself into both pants and boxers before slipping out of the room to properly clean himself back off.

Locus won that; yeah, he won Washington's virginity... but that didn’t mean that Felix wasn’t going to challenge him—that he wasn’t going to kick over that ‘ _so called’_ hornets’ nest and make Washington _his_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings to come:  
> Sharklix  
> Washlix  
> WashingFace x2  
> Manly/Wash  
> Bitlomo  
> MaineWash  
> Tuckington x2


	4. Sharklix (Sharkface/Felix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every night Felix hunts him down. Every night Felix rolls around in his sheets before leaving.  
> Every.Single.Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Felix and Sharky Mc-Sharkface AKA "Terrance Vincent Dante Vergil Xiao-Li" (the biggest nerd to ever nerd) and sex with clothes on (or some clothes on).
> 
> Warnings for this: Hate sex, violence, rough sex, they call each other a bunch of mean nasty names but they aren't bothered by it because its a consensual decision between those two (you can't make Felix do anything he doesn't want/like).
> 
> The two big words included are: "Slut" and "Cunt"

“I’m going to _fuck you_ ,” Felix snarled taking hold of the man’s Kevlar suit and slamming him back against the door—against _his_ door. Everything just smelled of that fish-faced asshole in here; the smell of gasoline and chlorine, the lingering odor of spray-paint and gun powder as well. Just a series of chemicals on top of each other.

“I don’t think you can even reach,” Sharkface replied, that scarred face of him twitching up into a smug, proud grin. Felix snarled lunging at the man with teeth, tongue and limbs. Wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck and his legs around his waist, Sharkface quickly turned to slam him against the wall beside them.

“I _hate you_ ,” Felix snarled biting and pulling at the man’s lip—stuffing his tongue back into his mouth and _groaning_ when the man holding him up ground their hardening cocks together. They rutted; Felix pulling, searching for the zippers to unpeel the man from suit but growing distracted as he pressed further—ground harder.

Felix pulled at the man’s lip, sucking on it between teeth and tongue—worrying the flesh to a nice bruising colour. Sharkface’s hands gripped his waist, tightening until it made Felix hiss, until he’d _bruise_ —pulling away to spit in the man’s face. “Fuck _you_ ,” he snarled, crying out when the man slammed him against the wall again—this time his head knocked painfully against it.

He blinked; a little woozy, all little out of it as Sharkface here wiped the spit glob from his cheek with a dark look in his eyes. He snarled, pulling the Kevlar suit down enough to show off Felix’s neck—biting, drawing blood. The smaller man cried out in shock more than pain, with _arousal_ more than shock.

Fuck that’s what he _liked_ about fucking with this man, he wasn’t afraid it _hurt_. Wasn’t afraid to push back, to up up the pain and throw it back in Felix’s face. Felix hated it—hated that he _liked_ it. Hated that he liked it that the man had his feet planted firmly on the ground, that he was more than solid enough in his footing to _launch_ Felix at a moment’s notice—launch him to the bed, away from him when he got to bitchy, off a _cliff_ if he had to.

It was just something about being manhandled. Being completely under the influence of another as they exerted their strength—fuck that got him off. Got his loins all a tingle—got that blood boiling. “Oh c’mon tuna-breath, that’s all you got?” he snarled tugging at the man’s zipper, wishing for the tear of fabric but unfortunately the Kevlar suits where military grade—good shit, meant to combat against stab wounds.

Sharkface barred his teeth, the ruined side of his face scrunching up—showing off not just the burns but the lacerations that he had healed from as well. “I don’t think you can _handle_ what I have, _tiny one_ ,” they spat their insults, the poison dripping from their tongues, from teeth and lips.

He tossed him then; across the room, knocking his arm against the wall and he collapsed into the bed. “Bitch! You fucking _cunt_!” Felix roared, peeling the skin tight Kevlar suit from his body, shimmying it down his hips as he watched the man stalk towards him—the zipper pulled all the way down to his crotch, the skin tight underwear that all the sensible ones wore under the suit straining. “At least you have an impressive cock,” Felix threw at him, fighting to get his arms out of his suit before the man could reach the bed. _Shit_ , _oh fuck!_ He wrist caught and Felix could only growl when the man reached in to his suit, tugging at Felix’s prick with a raise of his brow.

Felix was one of those people that didn’t wear underwear under the undersuit. He’d rather deal with the ball chafing than the uncomfortable feeling of his balls being even _more_ pressed to his body with the added elasticity of the underwear—and he’d rather never think of the bunching that it tended to do either.

“At least someone’s is,” he replied, manhandling Felix until his bitching was muffled by covers and pillows. Sharkface pulled the container of lube that he had tucked under his pillow—and _that_ right there proves just how often Felix made his way here, how many times he’d pull a knife and hold it to his throat only to grow bored when all Sharkface would do is stare at the man unimpressed.

He pushed the zipper down further, pulling his cock out of his underwear and quickly slicking it up before Felix could free himself of the skin-tight trapping his lower arms. Sharkface chuckled, pulling at the man’s suit—pulling it down till his entrapped arms pulled painfully behind his back and his tanned ass was proudly on display.

He pressed in, working two lubed up fingers into the man—not taking the time to stretch him, to prep him. No, more of an action to relieve his fingers of the added lubrication, to add to his own pleasure more than anything.

“You’re such a cunt, such a fucking _prick_ —i’m gonna carve up the other side of your face tomorrow, give you something to _properly_ grin about you ugly fuck,” Felix hissed back venomously, biting back his own enjoyment—biting back the wish to moan, to shiver and demand for more when the man pushed in. It burned so _nice_ ; he couldn’t help but hum, to hum at the feeling of being filled again.

Sharkface chuckled, “fucking slut.” Slamming into the smaller man, pulling his arms further together, holding them and using them to pull the man further down on his cock. “Bet you’ve been think about this. Think you’re such tough shit but all you want it a cock up your ass,” his thrusts had Felix seeing stars, had him spitting out the covers threatening to smother him as the man pounded him into the bed.

“Shut your trap, _Terrence_ ,” and the man snarled at that—at his first name. Price had let _that one_ slip during some information and Felix _loved it_. Loved how it was a trigger to the man’s rage; made him snap, let go of his restraints.

The man snarled; primal, enraged. Oh it was a beautiful sound to Felix’s ears—to his ass too, though not so much his head. The man had changed his grip, holding both of Felix’s bound arms in one while the other took a fist full of Felix’s hair and pushed him into the bed—back bowing, ass forced even _higher_ , even further back as the scarred man pounded into him.

“I won’t have you cum for that,” and Felix’s sneer wavered, “so you better hope that you can cum untouched.” It was intimate, how he leaned over to whisper this promise into his ear. How he could feel the zipper dig into his back and _Terrence’s_ cock brush against his prostate.

Felix gasped at that; _that_ broke through in his brief moment of intimacy with his sex partner. It didn’t go unheard either, wasn’t ignored as he continued to assault his ass—balls slapping, breath catching. Felix started to tremble, it was getting harder to breathe with the covers pooling around his head. It was getting harder to fight back the moans, the cries that were fighting to spill from his mouth.

“Come on,” Sharkface urged, “cry out. Do it,” he was taunting him. That prick was _taunting him_... and Felix fell. Crying out when the man brushed against his prostate, again and again. “That’s right, fucking scream it.”

“ _FUCK YOU TERRENCE_!” He screamed, cumming all over the sheets underneath. He hissed out again, “you’re a prick Terrence, don’t you dare,” just as the man’s seed spilled inside him. Filling him with the substance and Felix grimaced, knowing just how much of a _bitch_ it’ll be to clean that out. His bed partner eased himself out, his cum dribbling out—again Felix pulled a face at the feeling.

The sounds of their breath the only thing filling the room, the rustling of the sheets behind him as Sharkface helped him out of his Kevlar suit, easing him onto his back and out of his own cum. He felt bruised and sore—but _oh it felt good_ , so good. Felix hummed at the feeling of the man’s hand cupping his face.

“I’m carving a big F on your collarbone tomorrow,” Felix promised, peeling his eyes open to stare at the flame loving idiot. Felix didn’t feel like moving, didn’t feel like pulling himself up and out of the bed just yet. Give them a brief moment of peace—maybe fifteen minutes—before Felix hightails it outta there.

“As long as I return the favour,” is all that he said.


	5. Washlix (Wash/Felix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've been dating for two year, living together for a little over a year now. You'd think that Felix would remember that when shit went right in Wash's world bad things ended up happening to counter it. 
> 
> (Also known as they get stuck in an elevator)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Washlix smut with clothes on and in an elevator.
> 
> [The parts that come after this Washlix one-shot can be found here on tumble (i needed to write more for this AU because its fucking cute)](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/post/123391061722/if-anyone-needs-a-reason-to-add-me-on-skype-well)
> 
> Also hints to some Locus/Sharkface in this part 'cause fuck it if the "smaller baes" in my ot4 are together then the "big baes" get to be together too. FUCK IT!

 It was rare of Felix to get all lovey-dovey. Rare for him to take him out on dates, spurring him away to a dinner and a show where he’d snake his arm around his shoulders in the theater, letting Washington use his shoulder as a pillow to snuggle into, and even at dinner he held the man’s hand on the table and pressed kisses to his knuckles. That sounded horrible though, made it seem like Felix wasn’t a considerate partner.

He was.

He was a considerate partner, more so out of the public eye than anything else. It might be because of some internal thought process—maybe he thought he needed to uphold his reputation, though all of Felix’s friends were all now very well familiar in just how tight Washington had him wrapped around his finger. He had Felix _swooning_ when he’d smile, had him _blushing_ when he’d laugh. They’ve never seen the man like that, never seen him _in love_ —he used to mock it, mock the notion of someone falling in love.

He was a considerate partner though; truly, he was—he _is_.

He was caring in his own _Felix_ way. He was always more cuddly away from the public eye; he didn’t like the _cute_ part of being in a relationship. He liked walking around with his hand tucked in to back of Wash’s pants, his hand a constant feeling—a constant pressure against his ass in that one pocket. He’d pull Washington in for sudden make-outs and whisper what he wanted to do to him right that second if it weren’t for all these people around.

He’d roll out of bed if Wash asks _nice enough_ , he’d join him on his morning runs with minimal complaints—maybe one if he had caffeine beforehand. He’d come home and muss up Washington’s hair, slapping his ass if it was available before changing out of his work clothes and into something more comfortable. Some days he’d pick up food and Wash wouldn’t have to cook that night—it was always safer if Felix stayed away from the kitchen. He’d gift the blond with sweets, the only thing Felix would spoil him with—and the only thing that Wash _liked_ being spoiled with.

While it’s true that he did in fact work part-time at the little cafe down the block in the back making the pastries, Wash never indulged. No, he had a firm hand when it came to what he would or would not consume at his place of work. Though if Felix stopped by with one of Angel Cakes personal sized strawberry shortcake all his other rules flew out the window.

Five months ago Washington’s psychiatrist agreed that he was in a state that might be able handling a steady job, though she recommended that he may start as a part-time employee. She had even helped him by providing him a list of workplaces that are, in her opinion, very kind and understanding to war veterans.

Plus, with Felix working as a server, even though it was at a four-star establishment run by his family, it often made Wash antsy that he wasn’t contributing enough to the living arrangement. They’ve only been dating for two years, been living together for close to... a year and two months now. It’s only natural for him to at times worry about these situations. Wash learned at a young age that when things were going too good for too long, the other shoe always dropped—it would drop and everything would be ruined again.

And sure, they both signed the agreement to this apartment together, sure they bought their queen sized bed and the all matching bedroom set together and set it up—argued for hours about where everything would go and then proceeded to fuck on the cardboard boxes simply because ‘ _fuck the bed’_. Sometimes insecurities would kick in at the worst of moments and Washington would have to evaluate himself all over again—it wasn’t fair, wasn’t _kind_ of his own head to do that but... that was life sometimes.

Felix settled back against the handle-beam protruding from the back wall of the elevator, ankles crossing as he settled in _dramatically_ for the ten floors up. He grinned at his partner as he leaned on the rail beside him; it’s been a fantastic day. A date that someone could flush about—a date that was leading him to sex if the cock of the blond’s hip had anything to say about it.

The elevator stopped on the third floor and the only other company that they had riding with them quickly left the couple to their own devices—a man who had his messy mohawked hair styled (for once) and dressed in torn jeans and a leather vest covered in buttons, pins and patches who was accompanied by another man in combat boots and tight, but form fitting army themed cargo pants with a black tank top? Yeah, neither could fault the little elderly woman for wanting to scurry off and inform her other elderly friends on her floor about the two hooligans she met on the elevator.

When the doors slid shut and they were alone at last did Felix finally make his move. Twirling, caging the man in his arms and forcing himself between his legs. Washington chuckled, pulling him down the few inches to seal their lips together. The pair was always fluxuates in height—sometimes Wash was an inch taller, sometimes Felix was the inch taller—it annoyed Felix, annoyed him more than he ever liked admitting.

“What’s with the grin?” Washington teased, peppering kisses to the man’s lips—to the scars where the piercings had once been before his job forced him to remove them. He kept the ones in his ears, his tongue, and the ones hidden under his clothes. Kept them despite his parents’ unimpressed glances, lingering at the plain hoops and studs he’s pushed into them.

It must have been one of the reasons why they loved Washington so much—other than the dimbles and freckles which could melt a glacier.

Felix sandwiched the man, between wall and flesh as he parried each kiss with his own. “I’m so getting _laid_ ,” his grin only climbed, only pulled up to form a crooked devilish glint. He smothered the man’s laughter, swallowing down the huffs and call of complaint, swallowing down even the moans that started to form as they rocked against each other.

“I” they kissed “think,” two more kisses, “we have some,” Felix pressed into him again. Holding the back of his head as his tongue slid in, pressing, sliding against the other. “I think we have some lube on the coffee table,” and Felix hummed at the thought of more couch sex—maybe he’d sit back and watch Wash ride his cock.

The lights flicked overhead when Wash pulled the man in for another kiss; the elevator ground to a stop, plunging the box into darkness seconds later. A ear-piercing ringing followed the plunge when the box didn’t spur back to life after another fifteen seconds. Both of them groaned, Felix’s hands slipping down the wall—down the blond’s back and to squeeze his ass. “I’ve been having too much of a good day, Felix—this is what happens when you spoil me.”

They’re forced to separate, to fish out their phones and turn on the flashlight setting. Around the bottom of the paneling the emergency lights flittered to life, the dull dim helping them see just _what the hell_ they needed to do. Wash held his light up to the buttons looking for the call button—missing, or... well if that garbled mess that looked to once belong as a button was it then that was enough of an answer.

Felix sighed, “I’ll call.” His light flipped off, body sinking to the floor as he punched in the three numbers he needed to reach emergency services. Wash paced, walking from one side of the cramped cube to the other—that _ringing_ , he just wanted it to _stop_ already. “The other person... he’s war vet, dark enclosed spaces don’t seem to trigger anything but I recommend that we keep it that way—don’t need to give him anything else to bring up to his shrink, yeah?” Felix’s eyes shone in the limit light, staring up at Washington with a raise of his brow.

Wash nodded; he was fine, honestly. He just wanted to get home and continue what Felix was promising before this whole stupidity dropped itself in his lap—that and before this ringing gave him a headache.

Felix grimaced at whatever he heard on the other end, “Ahh. Well, I’d rather not. Don’t you guys have a way to contact me if shit goes fucky? Phone eats my battery life like a bitch, plus it’s just a stuck elevator,” he rolled his eyes—oh _please_ don’t start giving the operator sass, Wash turned from the man and pressed his forehead to the panels covering the wall.

Felix phone went skidding by Wash’s foot, bouncing off the wall and back a foot towards the man. Wash spun on his heel, “really?” he raised a brow at the impish smirk tugging at Felix’s lips. He patted his lap and Washington sighed by conceded to the silent request—the beckon over. He straddled the man’s laps, sinking down till they were flushed. “What are you playing at?”

His ring covered fingers slipping through Washington’s belt hoops, tugging him in to nip and pull at the blond’s lips. “Think I can get you off before we get _rescued_?” his grin infectious, pushing up against Wash to show _just_ how interested he was with his little game.

The blond huffed, wrapping his arms around Felix’s neck and tipping his own head to gesture to the noise still ringing out around them. “You think you can get me off with all this noise?” his inquiry cheeky—daring, and Felix _loved it_. Loved the challenge.

The belt was easy to clip open, one of those seatbelt buckles. That Slytherin belt was his favourite, Wash was proud of his house and at the fact that it made everyone question it—it took his own friends an hour to go through the base characteristics of the Slytherin house as well as what they knew about Wash before they concluded that the man was truly a Slytherin. It was funny on just how much of a nerd Washington was—all hidden under those freckles and fluffy blond hair.

It kept Felix’s moonlighting rom-com movie nights with Locus (and at time Terrence who’d force the movie to something Superhero related or the odd times a musical would be switched on and the three would drink their beer and bellow out the lyrics), kept the fact that he was just as much as a nerd his lover. And that’s how he liked it; no one but Wash and Locus needed to know him at his nerdiest.

He popped the button of Washington’s pants in-between the slow swap of spit—the open and close of mouths as Felix pressed the heel of his hand into Wash’s crotch. “That’s right baby,” he purred loving the soft groan he pulled from the man. They continued to kiss as he dragged the zipper down, fishing Wash’s cock out of his underwear and wetting his lips at just how hard he was.

“We don’t have any lube,” the blond warned, nipping at Felix’s lip—pulling at the trapped skin only finally releasing when the darker skinned man let out his own groan. He hissed, tilting his head back when Felix started up a pace—paying special attention to the crown, to spread the slick gathering around the slit.

“We’re still fucking on the couch as soon as we’re out of this,” he replied, following the man forward to nip and suck at the length of his neck. Groaning at the cries he was able to pull from the man’s throat, how he wrapped his arm tightly around his shoulders, how his legs shook as he thrusts up into Felix’s fist. “Gotta bend you over and fuck you. Make you scream so loud the whole fucking building knows how good I make you feel,” Felix purred sucking on the man’s Adam’s apple.

Felix didn’t draw it out—didn’t dangle Wash’s orgasm right in front of him and take that away right before he found completion. No, that denial was saved for when they were comfortable in their bed—when Wash had spent the day walking around in one of Felix’s shirts, or when the blond was being a tease in those damn fishnet stockings.

The man whimpered, groaning out Felix’s name in his arms—cum spurting out, dripping onto pants and Felix’s shirt, coating his hand in the creamy white fluid.

His laugh breathless as he pecked Felix’s natural tanned cheek, “should I thank you for not being a shit?” Felix brought the cum covered appendage to his lips, licking the substance off without a bat of his eyelashes. Washington groaned, shuffling off the man while tucking himself back in. “I take it back, you’re a shit.”

Felix snickered, wiping the rest of the fluid onto Washington’s pants and snickering again as he squawked. He watched as his partner scooped up their phones from the elevator floor, taking his original seat beside him. Felix’s phone was handed back to him as Wash curled up against his side, face tucked into his neck and lips pressed to his pulse point.

He turned the phone screen on and was greeted with the message from ‘ **Fish-Faced Asshole** ’ saying _you and Wash better not be the assholes stuck in the elevator in your building. If you are i’m laughing when i have to pull you out._

Fuck. Fuck that’s right, Terrence worked as a firefighter and _of course_ they’d be the ones called in.


	6. WashingFace (Wash/Sharkface)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't his first time, not exactly. Sure... he's never been with a guy before but that was because of his own... issues. But David... David made him push those aside, made him not so afraid to admit that he was a bisexual man and that was something to be proud about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: WashingFace + loss of virginity. 
> 
> Warnings: Terrence has just recently came to terms with his bisexuality, before now its been "oh its just a phase~ I'll get over it" mindset which I've mentioned at the very beginning. That, and the fact that I'm using the name Terrence as his name in this.
> 
> Have i told you how unimpressed I am with his name? *sigh*

 He followed after the blond, hand trapped in his as they pushed through party goers and found an unused bedroom. The blond pushed him back against the door, pushing the sweater from his person—down his arms until it fell to the floor, pooling around their feet. “So you’ve never,” the blond started, pulling the taller man into another kiss.

The taller man shook his head, “not with a man.”

He’s thought about it, dreamt about it as well. But no, never had he actually had sex with a man before. For most of his life before this he played off his attraction for guys as if it was just a phase, something he’d get over so he could return to thinking only about women. Well... he’s in his third year in University and the thoughts never left him—he still found both men and women attractive, and when he met David Washington he finally admitted that he was into dudes. ‘Cause _fucking hell_ David was hot.

For the last two months Terrence had been spending his Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays with the man working the evening shift at that shitty little gas station. It was nice; nice to spend his evenings with someone while he worked and when it was dead he’d pull out his school assignments and work on that instead. It was... surprising when David’s smile started to linger in his mind when he’d close his eyes, it was surprising on just how much Terrence didn’t mind that he stayed there.

So... for once Terrence started flirting with a man he deemed attractive, he’d smile and his touch would linger—he’d blush and glance up from his work through his saggy black hair, he’d accept the slushie that David would pass to him and they’d share it for the remainder of the evening, filling it back up when they ran out. Hey, if the boss said they allowed them to have coffee and slushies they’d take advantage for the free beverages.

They kissed three weeks after they were both hired and scheduled to work the evening shift; a shitty September night that lingered with humidity and both men just wished for it to rain already. Terrence had started driving the man back home rather than have him wait for his roommates York and/or North to pick him up. They kissed Thursday morning at exactly 12:02AM outside of the apartment that David’s be living in; it was amazing, firework inducing—his fucking breath caught and everything.

The David Washington of present day did nothing but chuckle, a little breathless, a little giddy. And Terrence wanted nothing more than to swallow that sound, and he did. He took hold of the man’s face and led him back to the bed, his own pants falling down his legs with each step. He pulled away, kicking off both shoes and pants while David quickly shed his clothes—pants, shirt, shoes and socks. All were removed without hesitation and it had him itching to kiss every inch of the newly exposed flesh.

“Then for your first time with a guy you can fuck me,” he said it so easily, like he had practiced that line in the mirror hours before even arriving to this damn party. He pulled Terrence in for another kiss, another slide of tongues and messing of lips. The taller man moaned, sliding his hands up and down David’s sides, thumbs slipping under the waistband of his boxers and toying with the notion of pulling them down—off those freckled hips. “Do it, go on,” David encouraged tugging at Terrence’s shirt.

He pulled away to remove the article of clothing the blond was toying at, dropping it at their feet and relishing in the feeling of David tracing his tattoos—when the man dipped and licked at one of the shark teeth on his chest. He pulled him back in for another kiss, devouring his tongue when his mouth opened to his—sucking at the flesh and working his lip between suction and teeth.

His hand slips easily into the back of David’s boxers, pushing them down and out of the way—gripping and pulling at his ass, pulling him in closer, kneading at the globes of flesh. David’s fingers tweak his nipples, rolling the nubs between his fingers—both men groaning into the other’s mouth as they toyed, played with their new favourite locations.

Before this, before this night they spent days—nights, even a few dead hours at work, exploring. Exploring how the other liked to kiss, what spots turned them on—Terrence loved it when David would shiver against him when he’d suck and nip at his earlobe, and David found that Terrence would buckle when he’d find that spot connecting shoulder and neck and just _bite_.

David pushed him down onto the bed, yelping when he was tugged down to join him. Clinging to Terrence as his heart thundered in his chest, body jostling as the older man chuckled. “Your face,” the lust made his voice deeper, chuckles almost _darker_ —richer.

Wash slapped a palm against the man’s tattooed chest, “oh shut up!” He exclaimed, cheeks flushing as he quickly adjusted—straddling the man’s hips, sitting proud in his lap all naked like the day he was born. “I need to work myself open, so I kinda need to get the lube in my pants. You have a condom right?”

Terrence nodded towards his own jeans spread out on the floor, “yeah.” He sighed, groaning dramatically when David slipped from his lap, grinning when the blond threw him a look and a roll of those pretty storm gray eyes. What was that saying? I hate seeing you go but love watching you leave? That sounded similar, sounded about right in this situation.

Even when he stretched out a foot and dragged his pants towards him to fish the condom he snuck in his wallet before leaving for the night. Even as he slipped his boxers down his hips, down his legs and peeling them and his socks off. Even in this situation where David was only walking away to fish out the package of lube from his pocket—fuck that guy had a nice ass and _he knew it_ too, knew he was watching by the sway he added to his walk, the bent his dipped into to retrieve his prize.

“Like the view?” David teased, biting at the corner of the package and rolling his shoulders—pulling his arms overhead and sighing at the crack.

Terrence licked his lips, watching the man stalk back towards him—taking everything that David Washington was and _is_. The freckles that coated his entire body, the scars that riddled his arms, chest and legs, the two tattoos on his chest and that bellybutton piercing that Terrence already knew the story for (CT wanted her nipples done but was nervous and long story short she talked David into getting _something_ pierced that wasn’t a nose stud or ears and CT got her nips done).

He pressed a kiss to the man’s ribs when he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and planted a foot beside him on the bed. Terrence held up the condom for the man to inspect, which he did—counting the date and checking the wrapper before handing it back to the man. David grinned around the package of lube dangling from his teeth, plucking it from his teeth and tearing it open. “This part might be a little dull,” he lathered his fingers with the lubricant.

Terrence peeled his gaze away, away from the fingers as he slipped them out of view. “Next time we do this all I’m going to do is finger you,” he promised, enjoying how David’s eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his fingers into himself, working himself over—getting himself ready for Terrence. His moans only growing in volume as he pleasured himself, he could _hear_ the slick—the sound of his fingers thrusting into his hole. “Fuck,” he hissed licking and kissing at the man’s stomach; working his way down until the tip of David’s cock brushed against his chin.

He didn’t know how David liked it, but he wanted to taste—taking just the tip of his cock into his mouth, Terrence lathered the tip with an even coating of spit. Pulling away to take in the taste—not exactly the finest of tastes, not all that different than eating a chick out. Each genitalia having their own distinct taste that, while you can attempt to draw connections to other foods or _tastes_ , in the end a dick tasted like dick and a vagina tasted like a vagina.

“You’re a _tease_ ,” David purred, fingers carting through Terrence’s hair as he moaned, head tilting back when Terrence licked from base to tip. Tongue circling around the slit, licking up the cum leaking out. He pulled away, pulling his fingers out of himself to hold the man back when he whined and wished for more. “Roll that condom on, I’m good to go.”

 _That_ did it, brought him back to what he wanted—what the ultimate goal was for this evening.

He clenched, unclenched his hands as reached for the condom. Pulling at the wrapper and pulling the rubber from the packaging, he waggled his brows up at the blond—priding himself in the chuckle he got before pinching the tip of the condom and rolling it down his shaft.

He leaned back on his hands, giving the man some room as he got into position—taking Terrence’s cock in hand and humming at the girth, the length, smirking up at the man through his lashes and all Terrence could do was shrug.

It was never something to boast about, never needed to worry about passing out when he gets a stiffy, never heard any complaints about it when he was having sex (‘cept maybe after oral, but that’s different discussion). So... Terrence could call himself average, y’know? Never had one of his friends insult his dick size in the locker room in high school—never had them raise a brow when he used the school’s gym.

David’s eyes clenched shut, sinking down on his dick—both men groaned, tossing their heads back at the feeling. It’s been awhile, too long. He sank until he was flush, with nowhere else to go but up. Terrence sat up, feeling his way up the man’s legs and over his hips to cup his ass. “Such an ass man,” David shook his head fondly, wrapping his arms around the man and he began to work himself up—work them into a rhythm with the rotation of his hips, clenching around the man inside him and pulling the most sensational of moans out of those well kissed lips.

Terrence nipped at the man’s jaw, up to his ear and latching onto the lobe—humming when he tore a cry from his pink and spit shined lips. He _assisted_ with easing the man onto his dick, to build a better rhythm that didn’t have _him_ wanting to call the man a tease—to possibly _insult_ his sexual prowess.

He kept it up; the calm, collected front as he gripped and pulled the man down as thrust up into his heat. His pants, his moans, drowned out by the... fuck it. _Fuck it_. “You’re a _tease_ ,” he snarled releasing his hold of David’s ass and _lifting_ him, pulling them up further onto the bed and pressing in as the blond laughed.

His arms splayed out over his head, leg thrown over one of Terrence’s shoulders and _still_ that grin was present. “I was starting to wonder when you’d get sick of that,” he had a crooked tooth, Terrence just noticed that. It wasn’t hugely noticeable but he would’ve thought that with all the staring that he’s done he’d pick it up before now.

“Oh, I’m not _sick_ of it. I just don’t have the patience for it tonight.” He corrected, bending over the man and folding him in half. “Question sweetheart,” he nipped at David’s nose, “how flexible are you?” He cried out, throwing his head back in passion when Terrence started his pace—fast, deep, and unrelenting. Left David’s back bowing and toes curling, one hand furiously beating himself off while the other kept the headboard from chipping away parts of the wall.

“ **Oh fuck!** Terrence!”

Terrence came with that ringing in his ears, with David’s name on his tongue and the feeling of his clenching around his cock. _Fuck_. He collapsed into the blond’s chest, in his arms and legs that slipped from his shoulder. There was nothing but the sound of the music downstairs playing and their panting to fill the silence.

He pressed kisses to the skin—to anything and everything he could find of David’s. Feeling the man’s pulse with each press of lips to skin, with the rise and fall of his chest under his. “Soo,” Terrence adjusted on top of the man, not yet wanting to pull out but still... he’d do it if need be. “Neither of us work tomorrow and you made a promise...”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, grinning at the near smitten expression he was greeted with. “Yeah, I did. I mean... there’s this place down on Martin Street that I’ve heard some good things about. Want to check it?” The grin, the flush of cheeks and the spark in his eyes were enough of an answer to press their lips together again.

Okay, so maybe they were _for sure_ dating before tonight, but after this weekend he was going to make sure that they were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings left:  
> -Manly/Wash  
> -WashingFace  
> -Bitlomo  
> -MaineWash  
> -Tuckington x3


	7. Manly/Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gale needs to really up his bedroom talk game, luckily Wash is very very fluent in this language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Manly/Wash dirty talking.

It’s not that they didn’t want people to know, it was just that... yeah, okay they didn’t want people to know. There was just something about the two _so called_ rival groups that sparked a competitive nature between the two that affected just about anything and everything they did. From Maine and Manly working out in the school’s gym, to Girlie and South trying to out-drink the other, to Carolina cracking a bottle over Sharkface’s head when he and Manly made a move on her little brother, Washington.

The whole thing just made it seem like some big huge romantic drama—a new rendition of the cliché Romeo and Juliet. Sure, both _assumed_ that nothing quiet and stupid and drastic would sprout from either groups learning about their nightly rolling around amongst the sheets—along with the casual early morning coffee runs and the occasional Friday nights when they’d go out for a drink.

They didn’t want anyone to know that they spent most of their week flopping between Gale’s apartment and David’s dorm room. They didn’t need to know that Gale could fuck him against the wall, like they were doing right this moment—they didn’t need to know their sex life, didn’t need to know anything other than that they were happy.

“Going to make you scream,” he shifted, widening his stance to make it easier to slide up into him—deep, as far as he could go. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking good,” Gale continued, pressing wet kisses to Wash’s cheek. Fucking him against his bedroom door, making it creak—Wash’s head knocking back against it when he’d tilt his head back and groan out in bliss.

“You drive me crazy,” he hissed, thrusting up into the blond—moaning with him when Wash’s eyes rolled back and his body twitched. “I don’t think you understand what you do to me—just how you sweep your eyes across the room, just what it does to me when you can pick me out of a crowd.” He’s panting in his ear, whispering sappy—horribly sappy things in his ear. He can’t stop himself, can’t stop how lovestruck he sounds.

He sucked on his jaw, alternating between bites and sucks. “How your ass looks in those _fucking jeans_. Was thinking about tearing them off you since I saw you this morning— _shit_ ,” his breath caught, Washington’s hand tangling in his hair and pulling face to meet his for a kiss.

“You suck,” he panted out between those soft, whimper-like moans. “Really? That’s how you talk dirty?” He laughed, letting loose a moan deserving of a Grammy Award—just... porn, pure pornstar ranked moan right there. “ _Ah_ , you feel so good—Oh Gale, _fuck_!” His eyes twinkled as he tossed his head back, pushing further down on his dick.

“Love it, ah— _ah_ , love it when you fuck me. Just think about it, about the aches I’ll feel all throughout the day tomorrow.” He should concern himself with how easy it came to him, how easy he’d let those words slip out of his mouth. How easy it rolled from his tongue. Gale loved it, loved how his teasing cracked when he’d thrust into him just right.

Gale moaned when the blond leaned in, licking a large patch up from jaw to brow. “Think about you, about your cock when it’s just me late at night.” Washington whined, dulled nails digging into his shoulders—his mouth hung open, legs tightening around Gale’s waist. “Haven’t had to use that vibrator in _so long_ ,” his voice was starting it catch, to pitch along with their moans growing in volume. “I think about this.” Gale pushed off the door; stumbling back towards his bed with his dick still buried balls deep.

They didn’t make it there—not with Wash groaning, mewling in his ear and using his grip he had around both Gale’s shoulders and waist as leverage to ease their fucking onwards.

They settled for the dresser instead with one of the knobs digging into the small of Washington’s back—his voice crying out in pleasure, no longer an act of showing the other up. Gale hissed, calling out the blond’s name in return until his release—until he was spilling inside the condom, the only barrier between it and the blond.

Wash wrapped his hand around his prick, jerking himself off—it was quick, a couple of tugs until he too was spilling, covering the hairs of their chests with cum. It was later, later after they cleaned themselves off and spread themselves out on top of the sheets to catch their breath that Wash let out another near breathless laugh. “That, sweetheart, is how you talk dirty.”

Gale could only roll his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:   
> Seeing that I have like three Tuckington ones I might stuff one in next... or I might just post the WashingFace chapter.   
> But its either going to be Tuckington or WashingFace.


	8. WashingFace (Wash/Sharkface)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one knows just how kinky these two really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: WashingFace having sex/playing with an intimate object and getting off on someone/their partner’s touch.  
> -Domestic AU where Washington is a Freelance artist and Terrence/Sharkface works as a ‘mechanic’ (think “Pimp my Ride” kinda dealio).
> 
> Can read more of this AU here on tumblr: [thing one](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/post/124132531912/more-washingface-you-say-well-alright-you-can), [thing two](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/post/124123398407/welcome-to-more-domestic-au-cute-but-this-time-for), [thing three](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/post/124135061912/and-then-on-skype-i-went-and-pictured-them-getting)

He took the man’s face between his hands; tilting his head from right to left, up and down before kissing his lips. “Can you see?” he questioned, fingering the blindfold wrapped around the man’s head. It was just a long piece of silken fabric folded over multiple times. Their last blindfold had looked more like a sleep mask, plain and black—comfortable too... up until the point where he had to tear it off him when Washington sobbed out his safe word.

It was always an _adventure_ when Terrence tied the blond up; it’s when he tended to react the most too—negative, positive. He’d carry David out of their second bedroom in their little run of the mill apartment just outside of the downtown core. He’d carry his lover out with him wrapped around him, face buried in his neck or shoulder—body trembling as he lays them into their bed, wrapping him in that black and yellow fuzzy throw that he loved so much. Terrence would grab that giant shark stuffed animal that would act like a body pillow more often than naught, stuffing that against the man’s back before returning to bed with gummy worms and quickly returning the man to his arms.

And they do in fact eat gummy worms in bed because damn it Wash loves eating gummies after. And, pairing with the fact that he’s been through enough trauma in his life and that he refuses to have it continue to influence with what he _will and will not do_ in his healthy and functioning relationship with a man that he’s been with for over two years now is more than enough to constantly have a steady stream of gummy candies stocked in their pantry. That and _fuck_ , if Terrence didn’t already think almost daily of marrying this man one day, that right there would have him blubbering on the ground like some awestruck fan meeting their celebrity crush for the first time.

They’d stay like that—for however long Wash needed it, may it be for the hours, or minutes, or seconds. They wouldn’t leave until Wash was taking a handful of the gummies out of the container and started using Terrence's chest as a plate. Sometimes not using his hands to pluck one up (the slurping and/or vacuum sucking noise he’d make was enough to have Terrence biting at his lip to fight off the giggles that threatened to form), sometimes he feeds them to Terrence and all he'd do hum out his thanks. Sometimes Wash would start moving around, he'd have one of those damn gummy worms dangling from his mouth and lean over him. Terrence would snap up, taking a huge chomp out of it and then flop back like nothing happened. Wash would lose it; start laughing that angelic laugh of his that'll always get Terrence to join in.

“No,” Wash shook his head, shifting his arms in the leather bonds. Terrence was looking into getting better rope, the other ones were starting rub Wash’s skin a little too raw for his liking. Now, there was a different between leaving marks on purpose and being left behind because of shitty rope. Wash deserved only the best—he spoiled the man too much, but... well, it’s what happens when you love someone right? Only want the best for them.

Terrence pressed a kiss to the corner of Washington’s lips, smoothing the fabric around his submissive’s eyes and over his cheek bones. It only stayed in this second bedroom—the whips, the chains, the ropes, the cuffs (the outfits were fine to be stored in the main bedroom, those were fun). It wasn’t all that often they’d venture in here either, more often than naught they’d rather just have slow passionate sex on the couch after dinner.

They had prepped him open before the scene, before he was all tied up and kneeling on the pad thrown onto the floor. Terrence pressed the vibrator that he had set out on the mat (along with the lube that would be for later as well) against Wash’s leg, letting him know that _yes this was the one they agreed on_ and that _yes I already have it_.

Wash shivered, wetting his lips. The straps kept his arms pinned to his sides, around to his back with his wrists bound together as well. His calves and thighs bound together, a padded bar keeping his legs from closing. Terrence set the vibrator back beside the lube and plucked up the collar with the large bell dangling from it instead. Wash whined at the chime, wetting his lips again as he tilted his head back to expose his neck.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the freckled skin on display. “You and this thing,” he chuckled, shaking the collar and watching the man shiver again. He pressed one more kiss to the flesh before covering it with the collar, buckling it snug against the sun kissed skin. “Beautiful,” he caressed the man’s cheek, over his lip and pinching his chin. “What’s your safeword, David?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the bell tingling softly as he shifted. “Freelancer. My safeword is Freelancer,” he answered with another lick of his lips. Terrence took in the man before him; completely naked before him, open and half-erect already. Those nipples pebbled, dark. He smirked—was going to be over quicker than expected... but then. Hmm, maybe he’d pull another orgasm out of him after that. “Can I have a kiss? Before we start.”

He was stunning, he was _always_ stunning—but there was something about the level of trust he had for Terrence to tie him up. He heeded his request, kissing his lover with all tongue and teeth—pulling his breath from his lungs and consuming him. He stood, stepping back and away from the mat to pull his shirt up and over his head. He watched the blond the whole time for cues—to make sure he was still with _him_ and not back in his past, not back in the unpleasant.

He unbuckled his belt but didn’t remove it—no; he wasn’t going to find his release until later.

His bare feet turned to the mat and he smirked when the man inhaled sharply. He brushed a hand through Wash’s hair, loving the chime the bell let out when Wash followed the movement back. Running his fingers through that wheat blond hair, down the back of and hooking a finger through the collar and tugging on it playfully. He stepped back again, relishing in the whine that Wash tried to suppress.

“Oh _sweetheart_ ,” he drawled out, humming to himself when circled around the man. He pressed a foot to the man’s ass, wiggling and digging his toes into the flesh as he pondered just where to begin his teasing—he could trail his fingers over the man’s ankles, though the sprain on the right ankle just healed late last week and he was still sore. He stepped back again, slowly circling him as gooseflesh started rising.

He spared a glance down at the man’s cock, proud and flushed—just like Terrence thought it would be. He kneeled in front of the blond; running tickling, feather-light touches over the man’s knees and circling round the bar that kept his legs wide. He dipped down between his thighs, tickling the soft flesh on the inside. His legs quivered with each caress, with each half an inch that he climbed in his quiet form of torture.

“Terrence,” he loved how he sounded, loved how his name would roll from his tongue. He loved how the leather creaked as Washington struggled to grab him, struggled to break from his hold. “Please,” he was never above begging, never above whining and pleading for something that he wished for. And for that Terrence jumped to the junction between pelvis and leg, pressing into flesh there and drawing his thumb up and down that crease.

His bell chimed, dangling and clanging as he tossed his head back—pushing out his chest. Such a subtle little cue, a prompting of where Terrence should touch next for more stimulation. He pressed deeper, wrapping his hands around his hips and grazing his teeth against Wash’s bottom lip. “No,” he stated, drawing back. He drew back everything—his hands, his seat on the mat. Terrence was gone.

Off the mat and sitting back into the seat that he had pulled up long before they started. Wash whined, chest heaving—he could see his heart jumping to pump faster. “Terrence?” a hint of panic, not what he wanted—opposite spectrum of what he wanted but he could get this back.

“I’m here Love, just taking in how gorgeous you are.” That helped; helped ease a smile on his lips. “You’re getting a bit _demanding_ , I don’t know if I should have you sweat it out—sit there all hard, left to think of just what you’ve done. Or, or.” He pushed himself off his seat, back to the kneeling blond and pinching—twisting all the most loving of ways—one of those dark pebbled nipples and humming at the moan he was gifted with. “Or I skip the worship and go straight to the torture.”

Washington’s jaw dropped, closed and opened again. “That wasn’t a question David,” he pressed a harsh kiss to the man’s lips, pulling away just as he started to swoon. Terrence plucked the vibrator and lube from the mat and circled round to kneel behind him. “I’m going to make you cum without being touched,” the man shivered at that—full body shutter that sent the collar chiming with each quiver.

Terrence cooed, slicking up the toy nice and generously—he trailed his middle finger down the man’s crack, the lube making the slide slippery and _smooth_. He pressed a finger in, checking that he was still good—still ready. He pushed the toy in, drawing the slide of the vibe out—loving the pants, the moans, the whimpers he was greeted with. He went until the red was swallowed and all he could see was the black end sticking not even an inch out of Washington’s hole. "You're going to be still here right?"

His question gave him pause, "Of course.” He pressed a kiss to the man’s ear, to his jaw then finally tilting his head back to lick into David’s mouth. “Remember that chair I have in here? Well that's where I'm sitting, and I'll be watching you the whole time." He stood, his lube covered hand linger at the base of Washington’s neck. "What's your safeword, David?"

"Safeword is Freelancer." The answer was quick, without hesitation and it put _him_ at ease.

Wash had told him about one of his ex-boyfriends—the one he and all his friends like to label as **Fuckboy**. They had been dating for two or three months before breaking up; before Washington woke up in Fuckboy’s bed alone and handcuffed to the headboard while he went and took a shower. He had panicked, had nearly broke down before Fuckboy returned and Wash had demanded to be freed—then upon his freedom punched him and left the male unconscious and naked only to later be confronted in class that one lovely night. The verbal beat-down in the middle of the lecture was one that Terrence wished he went to University just so he could’ve witnessed it.

"Good,” He wasn’t sure who was the one more worried when they did scenes—Wash or him. He kept worrying that he’d trigger something, made sure that his aftercare was set up hours before they were even ready to enter their second bedroom—from the giant stuffed shark that acted more of a body pillow and cuddle buddy that Wash had lovingly named Ted, to the giant container of gummer bears (he went with gummy bears today simply because Wash expressed the urge to bite their heads off), Wash’s favourite throw blanket and later they’d most likely turn on some Simple Plan and just be brought back to their damn childhoods or something. He needed to insure that _Wash_ was alright, this whole thing wasn’t about _him_ , it was for Washington—if he happened to get off as well then fine, but it wasn’t his primary goal. “Remember if you need out, say it."

Washington nodded, leaning into the touch as Terrence circled round again—returning to his seat and fishing the remote for the toy from his pocket. He fell into the seat, the pinnacle of grace and elegance—it’s a shame that Washington wouldn’t have seen it. The bell chiming gave away his shifting; his anticipation for what was next.

He chose the setting and grinned when his lover cried out—long, drawn out cries as his hips jerked in small, tight abort thrusts before rocking back on his heels. The lack of sight heightened his other senses—the vulnerability of being tied down, of being open and watched egged him on. Terrence upped the vibrations, the buzzing heard from where he sat leaning forwards with that damn remote pressed to his lips.

It was when Wash started curling in on himself, his cries catching, that Terrence took pity on him—before he’d face plant the mat (again). He took his lover’s sweaty, drool dripping face in hand and wiping the drool off his chin. Terrence took hold of his chin the other snaked round to his shoulder blades. “I’m pushing you back,” he's flexible, bendy, he could handle more than just the burn and pull of him being guided back.

Wash nodded, the bell clanging loud enough to drown out the whimper as Terrence started guiding the man back—the quiver of his stomach, the tension in his arms and legs before he was set back. Back to solid ground, back to the vibrator buzzing away between his cheeks. Terrence unclipped the bar keeping his lover’s legs open, replacing it with his own body. “Look at _you_ ,” Terrence purred, deft fingers finding the vibrator and started a small thrusting motion—probing for the one thing that’ll absolutely _wreck_ his lover.

“AH!”

There it was, and there it would stay—cruel, unusual. He’d be crying at the end of it, begging and claiming that it was too much. He kept the man’s legs wide with his finger gripping each knee. The blindfold growing dark as Wash’s body shook and shuttered, body trembling and bending.

“Please,” he sobbed, shaking—shaking and sensitive. “Please, _please_ —please, can I? Can I?” so breathless as he begged and sobbed and thrashed.

Terrence tapped his fingers against the man’s knees, “go on David. Cum all over yourself.” He did—hard and messy, white ropes of cum all up his chest—he grimaced at the feeling of it hitting his neck. Terrence chuckled, un-strapping the leather binds that kept his legs folded and lifting—straightening the limbs out over his shoulder.

Wash’s legs shook under his touch, gut clenching and back arching up off the mat when he upped the vibrations. “You can do better than that,” Terrence purred, kissing the man’s knee—down the tender inside before _biting_ , digging in deep. Enough to bruise but not bleed; Washington cried out, bell ringing madly as the sensations started becoming too much—so much, too much.

“Please,” he begged, stomach muscles fluttering as Terrence licked at the cum pooled in the grooves that formed. He nipped his way up, another harsh bite to the blond’s left pectoral then to his right shoulder. “Please,” he pleaded again; he wasn’t sure what he was asking for now—for another orgasm or no more? He returned to leave another bruising bite to the opposite leg. “Please.”

“What are you begging for David? What do you want?” He traced the length of Wash’s cock, thumbing at the head and humming when the man’s body trembled.

“ _You_.”

He came again, with a primal grunt—the fabric covering his eyes wet with both sweat and tears. Terrence nodded; that was enough for today. A win as it were as well—Wash was tied up and not once felt the need to utter his safeword. He turned the vibrator off, pushing the blindfold up and over Wash’s face. “Do you want a proper kiss now or after I get you out of this?” He slowly pulled the vibrator from Washington’s used, abused and thoroughly pleasured hole.

Wash’s legs wrapped around his waist, holding the man to him. “Do both,” Terrence did. Wrapping his arms under Wash’s back, pulling him up and into his lap before kissing him. Pressing their lips together as he fumbled with the straps. They didn’t often use these, but again Terrence was looking for better rope for them to use, so it took a little longer than normal for them fall to the mat and for Wash to chuck the blindfold off from around his forehead and wrap his arms around his lover. The bell still chiming softly between them and momentarily forgotten by both.

It took awhile, too focused on his lovers lips and tongue, too focused on his trembling fingers running over his shoulder, neck and into his hair. Terrence eventually pulled away, pressing kisses to Washington’s chin and cheek. “Let’s get you to bed, babe,” he said, slowly rising to his feet with the ass firmly grasped in hand. He fumbled once while rising, cursing into Wash’s hair and making the other man chuckle.

“You’re such a _dog_ ,” Wash smiled, accepting the peck to his lips.

The brunet rolled his eyes, “I’ll show you ‘ _dog_ ’ when I fuck you next.” He nipped at the air in front of blond’s nose, grinning when he scoffed at him gray-blue eyes rolling at the playful promise.

“Don’t promise me something you can’t deliver on.” He was still trembling when Terrence sat him down in bed, grabbing the container his stuffed the cloth he soaked in boiling hot water before they stared, peeling off the lid and pleased to find that it was still warm. “Is that warm water? Did you put warm water in a bowl and _cover it_?”

Terrence grinned, wringing out the cloth before pressing it to Wash’s face. The blond hummed, melting into the touch—shivering as it traveled lower, the bell around the collar chiming as Terrence brushed against it. “Shit,” tugging at leather around Washington’s neck, “forgot about this damn thing.” He was embarrassed by that, the momentary relapse in focus. The collar fell to the floor and Terrence went back to his task of cleaning up his lover, “you want to clean your ass or are you going to let me or are we just leaving it?”

Everyone had their ways, some were a hell of a lot more... well, _anal_ about how it was done—sometimes they’d rather clean away as much as they could even though water and silicone based lubes do eventually get absorbed. Though it was his own body and his comfort was what was most important to Terrence.

Wash shook his head. “Leave it,” he sighed closing his eyes at the pampering. Terrence complied and instead refocused on the task of wiping up the mess on the man’s chest, his stomach before dropping it back into the container and snapping the cap on it again. Wash groaned crawling into the bed on wobbling arms and legs and flopping out in the center of the bed with a large stretch. “Pants off then cuddle, Ter,” every time he said his name like that it sounded like _tear_.

Wash always did have a weird thing with cuddling—with having to be the same state of dress as his partner. It was great for Terrence who slept nude, or in boxers when not, so Wash would match his state of dress so he could feel closer when they snuggled.

He tucked the giant shark plushie to Wash’s side throwing the soft blanket over his lover before kicking off his pants and joining the man under the thin but incredibly soft blanket. Wash curled around him, running fingers up and over the burn marks on Terrence’s left side of his jaw, following it down to his neck. An accident at the garage and the reason why Terrence was now one of the main guys that dealt with the wielding and torch work—it had happened a year before Wash met the man through CT, it was darker then, a fresher wound.

Terrence weaved their fingers together, guiding the man’s fingers to his lips to kiss each tip—each knuckle, the wrist, the inside of his arm before stealing a kiss right from the man’s lips. “Want some sugar?” Wash nodded, grunting when the man rolled them over and flattened him with his weight. “Oh shut up, its muscle.”

He couldn’t see what he was doing—though Terrence must have recently groomed his armpit hair, it looked shorter than it was three days ago. He heard the man curse under his breath, the sound of a lighter flicking as he tried to light something. It dawned on him just as Terrence was starting to pull away from Washington’s side of the bed, back to his spot with the large container of gummy bears already opened and waiting for Wash to get a piece of. “Did you light a candle?”

“You’re the one that’s been telling me to use them more—what was it again? ‘ _We need to use them before my sister comes over again and says that I don’t appreciate her gifts.’_ I think that was something along the lines,” he grinned, rolling onto his back and gathering the man to his chest.

They fell silent; Wash found the gummy bears and started sorting them out on Terrence’s chest in handfuls. It was nice. Nice, calm, relaxing as it lulled Terrence into a peace—a light doze in and out of consciousness. He opened his mouth with little prompting when the gummy sweet was jabbed to his lips. “You gave me a yellow one,” he mumbled around the mush, swallowing it down and blindly opening his mouth for the next one—green this time.

“Hey,” Wash’s smiling face greeted him.

His thumb traced his bruising lip—he always did have a habit of biting at them. “Hey yourself,” he answered, chuckling when Wash held a red gummy bear between his teeth—wiggling it until he pieced together what it was that the man wanted.

Together they bit the poor tasty treat in two, eyes fluttering shut—the pieces where pushed around between the two, before gravity pulled it back to Terrence. He pulled away chewing, grinning at the playful glare he got in return. “You took my half,” Washington chortled, kissing him again.

 They kissed for minutes—went on to seem like hours in each other’s embrace with Wash’s leg thrown over Terrence as he took his hardened cock in hand and sank down on the prick with a sigh. His tremble long past; positions flipping, spinning and falling back into covers and pillows with laughter in their voices. Wash wrapped all around him, his forehead against his, noses bumping and _smushing_ and ghosting against the other. Their breath merging together when lips separated from varying kisses—from tongue and teeth, the slow slide against the other, the feather light touch of lips pressed together.

Their lovemaking is slow, with David only concern about insuring that Terrence finally cums—with being as close to his lover as possible, with each kiss and thrust drawing a longer, a more pronounced moan. “I love you,” his sweaty forehead slid from Wash’s, arms tightening around his back and waist as he moaned into the pillow beside the blond’s ear.

He came with a shiver, with a series of aborted jerks of his hips as his squirted his load in Washington’s ass. Lips quickly finding the blond’s freckled shoulder, following it up to his neck the jaw—to his lips that he peppered with kisses anew. Wash petting him throughout it; petting his hair and back, over his shoulder and neck to the tensed muscles of his chest.

“I love you too,” Washington replied.


	9. Bitlomo (Bitters/Palomo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night kissing turns into late night hand jobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bitlomo having sex in public (bonus points if they're trying not to be heard). 
> 
> -I don't think i got those bonus points. But I raise you an Agent Squeakington!  
> I've never written this ship before and I've always wanted to! So thank you :)

It wasn’t often that the mood would strike, not often that Antoine Bitters would fall prey to sexual urges or his partner’s pathetic attempts at _picking him up_ (not literally, far from the literal sense). It took a long time, lots of days and nights where Palomo would sneak into his room and curl up in bed beside him—thinking that he was being _sexy_ , thinking that it was romantic.

It wasn’t and it didn’t even rouse him from his slumber—when Bitters retired for the night he was out, signed out, checked off, done. Nothing came between him and his pillow—not even his tiny tanned skinned, freckled boyfriend with the floppy dirty blond hair. Though, it was... _nice_ waking up with someone in his arms, but he’d never tell the blond that. It’ll get to his head and he’d laugh (giggle) and would be insufferable for the remainder of their days.

He was tired, sore—ever since they had gotten the former Freelancers on their side, Washington has been running them through one drill after the other. Every day was leg day, every day was arm day—shooting practice, hand to hand sparing. Washington was strict, but he cared so Bitters... well, he tried. He listened to the man because there was just something about him that you needed to listen to. And Wash would listen in return, ask him how he was doing, gave him pointers about his shot and his fighting style. He picked up on his and Palomo’s relationship—something about how the two of them would look at each other.

He wanted to question more but he kept having to clear his throat and _that_ only brought out Agent Squeakington and both quickly excused themselves before any assumptions could be made, confirmed or denied. The next day was like it never happened—good. _Good_ ; Bitters didn’t want to have to explain the situation to the younger man. ‘Cause Palomo would’ve asked, he always pays attention when you _don’t_ _want_ him too.

Bitters groaned sinking to one of the benches set up in the male communal showers. His hair dripping onto the tile between his legs, loose fitting basketball shorts hanging off his hips. He glanced up when his significant other jogged around the line of lockers, hair darkened by the water still dripping rivers from his head and soaking his green shirt. “You waited,” disbelief, shocked—touched, the emotions flashed easily in his eyes as his grin spread.

“You said you wanted me to sleep in your bed tonight,” he shrugged. Palomo pranced, bounding towards him and leaping into his lap and rocking the bench and man seated on it. “Fucking hell, Palomo! You want to kill me now, or the both of us?”

He grinned sheepishly, “sorry, I just didn’t think you’d agree. You always say that my room is messy and you can’t sleep with the smell.” What Palomo didn’t know was the fact that it was the smell of _him_ that drove him nuts, made him feel things that he was frightened in finding out—and was still frightened to explore even though they have traveled down that path. It was still too new, too... too much sometimes. To go from _ehhh_ to _yes please Charles, you fucking beautiful bastard_.

The blond wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressing their lips together for a chaste kiss—or he _tried to_. When Bitters dropped his guard, kissed him back and wrapped his arms around his partner. That’s when it shifted to something more, less pure and more raunchy—and it was all _Bitters fault_. He was the one that bit at Palomo’s lip, was the one to push his tongue between those lips and teeth. He was the one that grabbed the blond’s ass and helped him straddle his waist instead. “Can we have... can we do it tonight? Like, have sex?”

His cheeks coloured, green eyes staring at Bitter’s lips—he licked them, smiling when Palomo swallowed thickly. Bitter’s fingers pushed down the blue and white cloud pajama pants the younger male wore, earning a squeak of surprise and a flicker of insecurity in those green eyes. “Just a handjob,” Bitters answered pushing the pants further down the male’s hips, “no one comes in this late,” and down his legs when the blond kneeled to allow more.

“You too,” Bitters nodded at the request, pawing at his shorts—pawing the elastic down far enough to get his dick out. Enough to jerk himself off; to harden himself up until he took Palomo’s mouth with his, wrapping his hand around both their leaking cocks and tugging. “Antoine,” he whispered, he moaned as he pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting them.

This kid drove him crazy, made him want more—made him crave the touch and sounds that he’d spill from his lips. Made him crave the taste of the blond; he swallowed his moans, those groans and cries of his name as he buckled and jerked. Wrapping his own hand around them and tugging, thrusting up and against the other dick. Bitters was going mad, crazy—too much, this kid was just too much.

All his green eyes and freckles; those crooked teeth and dimples when he smiled, the creases around his eyes. He loved this damn kid and it was going to drive him crazy, Charles Palomo was going to be his undoing.

They came all over their hands, lips pressing and sliding together throughout it—swallowing down any sounds made during and after. He didn’t want to stop kissing him, didn’t want to register the sounds of the door slamming closest like it always tended to do and the sounds of boots on tile making their way around the line of lockers. Bitters didn’t want to pull away but he had to when Agent Washington rounded the corner and, “oh for—! Really?”

For the record though, the man was at least kind enough to wait back by the door while they fumbled to get their pants back on—he didn’t even say anything, which was an improvement from Smith who walked in on Palomo kissing him in the showers two weeks ago.


	10. Tuckington (Tucker/Wash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touch starved and filthy leads to dealing with both at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tuckington with shower (or bath) sex.
> 
> Sorry, I'm a little mad at the moment and having a brain fart on how to write shower sex. Its a bitch to do, i'm serious. It's more work than what its worth.

Tucker chuckled, kissing the taller man as he pressed him back to the tile. The water raining down over their bodies, sliding together as the kiss deepened—their world shifting as they lost themselves in each other. “Weren’t you the one that walked in on Bitters and Palomo last week?” he snickered wrapping his legs tighter around Washington’s waist, tugging at the blond’s hair as he lunged in to attack his neck with teeth and tongue.

“If you bring that up again I’m leaving,” he warned sinking into the man again, groaning at how easy it was to slip in between his cheeks—how much the man wanted him that he sighed at the feeling of being filled. Sex in the shower was always daring—about muscle strength, luck and trust... well, if it wasn’t just the two fucking against the wall with both feet firmly planted on the water slick ground. But Tucker did not do that, no, he hung onto bath Washington and the lip with the tile switched to drywall.

“You wouldn’t _leave_ —” he would totally leave, Tucker already knew that. It’s happened before. Wash has stopped in the middle of sex when Tucker said something... well, it was rude and he regretted it. It was early in their _relationship_ —back before when it was just sex without the larger development of feelings.

Wash kissed the corner of his lips, nipping at his jaw and pushing the other man’s head back. He didn’t answer him; knowing that the other man was aware of his answer without stating it. The feelings were new, a development that was trying and rocky—Tucker has said a lot of things that had hurt Wash, has said and acted in ways that has been nothing but confrontational and hostile when all the man wanted to do was _help_. He was still apologizing for those things and will be for a long time coming—knowing that if Wash did forgive him it would take time, time that Tucker was willing to give him and put in.

Tucker moaned into the man’s mouth loving the feel of him—the way his gripped his waist and trusted into him. The way his lips moved against his jaw, against his ear, but no sound came out—just heavy huffs of breath and the occasional moan.

Neither was fit to last long, neither _wished to_ —it’s been too long since they’ve been able to wrap each other in an embrace, fall prey to each other’s scents and sounds. It’s been too long since Tucker felt the man come undone. It’s been too long since Tucker was able to trust someone enough to cling to them, falling into his own pleasure.

It’s been too long since they’ve felt the other’s touch to their skin, the kiss to the other’s lips—the silent promise that they’d be there tomorrow.


	11. York/Wash/Sharkface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: York/Wash/Sharky threesomes

They’ve been...well, _them_ for awhile now. It bled from them just being friends to something more so suddenly that David Church (nicknamed by all as Washington) couldn’t really explain it. Who was first? Was it Terrence Xioa-Li or Shaun York? What qualified as _the beginning_?

Wash had known York longer; he had dated his older sister (Carolina) for awhile before they had broken up one too many times for either of their liking. No hard feelings, no lingering resentment or anything of the works—both concluded that their stubbornness would just lead to resentment and that would lead to a destruction of their friendship which neither wished for. Wash had crushed on his sister’s boyfriend all throughout high school and into college when he followed by her (and the family’s) example and attended the same school.

It was a slower build up between them. Built upon a sturdy friendship foundation and the brunet’s teasing of Wash being his ex’s baby brother—that one of his _best friends_ is his long time ex’s brother. It annoyed him, hurt a bit too. Between what he assumed was flirting and a mutual attraction York would throw up that _Carolina’s younger brother_ wall and the butterflies would turn to worms and his heart would plummet.

Terrence had kissed Wash first though; had made his affection known from their first meeting that he was interested in the blond romantically, sexually—whatever it is that Wash would favour, Terrence wanted it all. Wanted his friendship, wanted his lust, his love. Wash fell for him hard, he fell for him quick. They had met at a house party during Washington’s freshman year (he remembers that it was after the Winter Holiday, but the exact day was hazy) and spent the rest of the night making out—the following morning didn’t change their minds and in-between sharing a greasy fast food breakfast they’d press kisses to the other’s lips and nudge their noses together.

It was strained at the beginning—Wash’s group of friends didn’t like Terrence and his group of friends. A huge brawl breaking out between the groups awhile back that left a view people in the back of an ambulance and spending a while in the hospital. So... Wash kind of hid him from his sister and their shared friends. He’d spend the night with Terrence on his couch with his head pillowed on his shoulder and a movie playing in the background that they’d watch when they could tear their attention away from the other.

It was an _odd_ situation the three of them found themselves in. With Wash liking both of them but not wanting to give the other up—Terrence and he weren’t dating, they were kissing and cuddling and _moving slowly_. York was... well he was York and that’s what he always was.

He was... well...

A standstill, as it were, that Carolina was tipping the scales on. Carolina was pushing Shaun into properly making a move on David, and that the man no longer hides behind the fact that Wash is just _the younger Church sibling_. She knew that her brother had been crushing on York throughout high school, felt a little bad every time he’d see them kiss and hug and cuddle up on the couch. It wasn’t until Carolina _asked_ North to kindly get those two to kiss did York finally slip and _let himself_ fall for Wash.

The three found themselves in a bit of a pickle from then on—Shaun started kissing David, and Terrence started leaving hickies on David’s neck. He didn’t bother hiding it, telling them the situation—that he liked both of them, he _really really liked_ both of them and wanted to make it work if they were.

They met for dinner on a Wednesday night and both Shaun and Terrence eyed each other and said, “ _you’re_ not going anywhere near my dick.” And, in the short that was how Washington starting dating both men.

In a year since they started they developed a system—weekends, from Friday night to Sunday evening (and sometimes staying to Monday morning) the three of them would stay at Washington’s apartment. On weekdays Wash would travel to either one of their places.

The first year together Shaun and Terrence would huff and roll their eyes at each other, their comments heated enough for Wash to invest in a squirt bottle and squirt them in the face if they got a little too hurtful. The threat of a violent confrontation was a fear of Wash’s, those two groups of individuals had a lot of bad blood that they needed to work through—unfortunately, Wash just happened to be the guy that was sleeping a guy from each group and thus the job of mediator fell to him.

The second year together saw to them being able to sit beside each other, saw that they found similar points of interest and were holding a pleasant enough conversation that Wash no longer feared for either of his lover’s safety. And, on a rare enough occasions, when Wash would wake up early and make them breakfast the two older men would chase his lingering warmth to the middle of the bed and they’d intertwine their fingers together as they curled in the space.

The third year was the year that they were able to go buy a little house (thank’s to the Church family). They acted like the family unit that Wash dreamed of—making meals and eating them together, watching movies and gaming on their living room television. Sharing morning kisses, and kissing his lovers goodnight.

Though... they never did have sex with him at the same time—no overlap between Terrence-David time and Shaun-David time. Wash was going to try to fix that, ease them into a more middle ground where they were still comfortable.

<3

Wash watched them from his seat on the counter, spooning another mouthful of yogurt into his gob as York nursed his coffee at the breakfast bar and Terrence who stared into the fridge as he tried to decide what else he wanted on his bacon sandwich. Just another quiet morning in the Xioa-Li/Church/York household, and _oh_ was Wash ever looking forward to throwing a wrench in the calm.

“We should have a threesome,” Wash slipped from the counter and pulled the dishwasher open to deposit both his spoon and bowl into it. Both of his lovers stared as he puttered around—cleaning the rest of the leftover yogurt from his bowl, loading up the dishwasher, stealing a piece of bacon from Terrence’s collection. “I’m just throwing it out there. Don’t need to focus on each other if you don’t want to, but it’s been something I’ve been thinking about for the past year,” he slips from the kitchen with an extra sway in his step.

He’ll let them think it over, let them possibly discuss it while he got ready for a last minute meeting with a client to discuss the art show that not only was Washington providing some of his paintings for, but he also agreed _assist_ the client in obtaining a few other pieces of artwork seeing that the artists were close friends of Wash’s. In all honesty, Washington didn’t mind giving the man part of his Saturday afternoon, he was getting some free food out of it all, making some money in the end, and helping a few friends possibly sell their own artwork.

He didn’t bother closing the bathroom door before stripping from his sleepwear and turning on the shower. He stood in front of the mirror checking over his appearance as the water heated—he had a hickey on his collar, a few on his shoulders but none on his neck or behind his ear or even on his jaw. All it truly limited him from wearing were tank tops and V-neck shirts, both of which he wasn’t planning on wearing in the first place.

He slipped into the shower, sighing at the warm water cascading down his body. He loved showers—loved nothing more than to sit in the tub with the water pouring overhead as he relaxed. York hated it when he’d do it, claimed that he wasted too much water and that he should just take a bath instead. But Terrence understood, he was the one that would increase the water temperature and grab both the soap and shampoo and set it on the rim of the tub before joining him in a peaceful laze.

But Wash didn’t have the luxury of that at the moment. He had places to go and people to see—he’d return home and take a proper shower when he gets back.

<3

Wash tossed the suit jacket he was wearing back towards the closet, not in the mood to hang it up after the pissing contest he just witnessed. He honestly didn’t think that it could’ve gone that horrible, but that lunch was just _horrible_ —there just wasn’t enough words in his vocabulary to properly describe just how horrifying it was to be stuck between a former couple who just went through a messy breakup.

He’ll give the client points for taking it all in good humor, patting his back when they went their separate ways. “How the hell was I supposed to know that they—and I mean _both of them_ —cheated on the other? I didn’t even know they were dating in the first place! How am I supposed to know something when they don’t tell me it!” He fought to remove the dress shirt he wore, the sleeves catching around his wrists and he cursed.

Terrence sighed pressing in behind the blond and pressing a kiss to his exposed nape, “let me help.”  His fingers slid down his arms, over his elbow and circling round to unbutton the man’s cuffs. York snickered from the bed, pulling the covers up further in an effort to keep them on the bed—he always did tend to forget to make it when he rolls out of it.

“So we’ve been thinking,” York’s grin grew when the blond was finally freed from his shirt and Terrence kept him trapped against him with his arms wrapped securely around his waist. Wash’s blue-gray eyes followed his form as he slipped from the bed with ease, bare feet smacking against the floor quietly with each step. The brunet tilts the blond’s head back, pressing their lips together when he finally makes his way to the others. He pulls away and casts a glance up Terrence who rolled his eyes in reply. “Threesome right?” His hands slip down David’s exposed chest, fingers hooking into his belt and tugging at it.

David laughed, leaning back against Terrence’s chest and curling his arms back to lace behind the man’s neck. “Oh? The two of you are sharing _at the same time_?” he forced a gasp, “is this a dream or has Christmas come early?”

Terrence nipped at the man’s freckled arm wrapped around him, “careful David, we can walk away from this—turn you down and leave you just with that left hand of yours.” The blond whined, showing just how much younger he was compared to the other two—both Shaun and Terrence were October babies while David was a June child making the difference between the ages not as bad as it could’ve been. Yet, still Shaun and Terrence were nearly three years older than the blond and while Terrence was easily forgetful of that information, Shaun was not—he was the one that grew up dating David’s older sister after all.

Shaun cooed, “awww Davie-Wavie, don’t start that.” He pressed kisses to the man’s lips, fingers working on the belt then button and zipper as all fell before his nimble fingers. He followed the fly down, kneeling in front of his blond haired partner and winking up at him. “Remember Terrence, I get the front,” and he hooked his fingers on the waistband of Wash’s briefs and tug them and pants to his ankles.

David’s brow furrowed and his head turned to Terrence for an answer while Shaun’s fingers worked their magic against the blond’s freckled thighs, over his hips and in the crease of his pelvis. The black haired man grinned, pressing a kiss to the man’s lips before working his way out his embrace. “Just stand there and look pretty,” he purred, kissing his way down the man’s spine hands massaging the flesh of his ass.

He caught on quickly, with the blood running south along with both of his partner’s hands and mouths. “This is just cruel,” he panted, sucking in a breath when Terrence pulled his cheeks apart and didn’t hesitate to just dive in with all tongue and spit. His hands flew down to either partner’s shoulders; curling around the back of Shaun’s neck as he licked and tongued at the head of David’s cock, nails sliding and digging into the underside of Terrence’s arm as he moaned out.

Shaun’s lips tugged up into a grin as he sank down, taking more of the prick in mouth swirling his tongue around. His eyes sparkled, twinkling up at him as he took more. “You’re— _shit_ , ah— _fu **ck**_!” The blond hissed knees buckling at the mix of sensations—the heat around his cock, the hand cupping his balls and just the barest hint of teeth along the underside of his shaft in the front while he had Terrence’s thumb just _teasing_ the muscles of his hole, his tongue pressing in while he shook his head slowly from one side to the other. That slow drag drove him nuts—made his knees jelly and his stomach flutter.

David would have thought that years, year of training where each man would take their sweet time. He thought he would have been used to it after he’s had Shaun between his legs with his teeth dragging _just so_ against his cock, that tongue sliding over in a silent apology before worshiping the head with kisses, tongue and suction for _hours_. He thought he would have been used to it after Terrence had gotten him to cum time and time again without ever touching his dick with just that tongue working miracles inside him, leaving him sobbing and begging like he’s never done before—and very could again, not unless it was with that man and his wicked tongue.

David Church fell to pieces between them; his gut clenching and knees threatening to give out as Shaun sucked every last drop from him. “Bed— _bed_ ,” his fingers shook as he pushed his partners away from him, grabbing hold of Shaun and pulling him forwards for a desperate kiss. He didn’t care about the taste of himself on the man’s tongue, it was nothing he hadn’t tasted before and it would be far from the last time either.

They shed their clothes, stepping from their pajamas and underwear, throwing away their shirts and socks in an effort to continue—to reach their own pleasures. Find their comforts in their blond haired lover who begged and pleaded for more, who pushed and prodded them into a position that he wanted before continuing.

With his ass bared to Terrence and hair gripped between Shaun’s fingers, both men pushed in—pushing the man into the bed, feet planted on the wood flooring for stability. Shaun groaned, choking down his chuckles as the bed creaked with each thrust into the man’s mouth. He took him so readily, so _perfectly_. His long brown lashes splayed out over his freckled cheeks, his breath puffing out through his nose as his lovers used him how he loved it—loved it when they’d reach the end of their rope and pin him down and take what they wanted.

David could do nothing put accept it; moan around the cock fucking its way down his throat, sucking in a breath when Shaun would be between thrusts. David could do nothing put grip the covers as Terrence fucked him hard, jostling his body with each ball slapping thrust.

Shaun would pet at David’s jaw, humming as he felt his cock slip down the blond’s throat—groaning and smiling at the jaw slackened expression Terrence wore. “C’mer,” he hissed out, pulling the black haired man’s face towards him. He wanted a taste—taste how David mixed with him, share just how the blond mixed with him.

Terrence kissed him back, sliding his tongue against the brunet’s as they came swallowing down the other’s taste mixed with David—swallowing down the sounds the other made while spilling inside the other.

<3

The bubbles threatened to overflow as the three found their comfort in the bathtub. Wash massaging his jaw with a dark stare directed at York. The man could only grin, grin and hold his hands up in surrender. “You’re the one that always tells me to be rougher when I fuck your face,” York grinned, scooping up a handful of bubbles and smooshing it to the blond’s face.

“And I get the _opposite_ ,” Terrence scoffed from behind Wash, the blond relaxing comfortably against his chest. York tended to not stay in the bath as long as the other two, he’d stick around in the bathroom at times with a towel wrapped around his waist and seated comfortably on the toilet. “All _Terrence fuck me slow_ or _Terrence make love to me_ ,” he teased, pressing kisses to the skin behind the blond’s ear as the brunet chuckled.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve kissed, but _those_ were always after prompting from Wash. A peck to the lips in good-bye or good morning, or maybe a quick peck during birthdays or holidays—they were quick. Quick and painless. Never open mouthed, never done out of their own original thought—the birthdays and holidays were now just... habits more than anything.

It doesn’t change a thing... just... it’s just _curious_. Why then? Why now? Maybe they were starting to get along better than they thought. Maybe the feelings of _eh_ has changed to more of a feeling of _you’re not as bad as I thought_.

Maybe... maybe they’d test a theory at a later time, maybe they’d agree to another threesome if Washington inquires.

Until then though, until then it’ll always just be Shaun and David and Terrence.


End file.
